Empty
by zim18
Summary: She was empty. Her heart numb with an ice cold barrier. She doubted she would ever feel warmth again. And she had a job to do.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

She was cold. Tired. Numb. Every sinew in her body screamed out as she walked along the familiar corridor. So familiar, so empty. The girl stopped when she reached the entrance to the great hall. It was well into the night and all the students were safe in their dorms. Taking in a deep breath to steady herself, Hermione stared into the room where just hours before… no, she couldn't think of that. She had a job to do. Strengthening her resolve, Hermione turned to the grand staircase and began her ascent. Her body moved autonomously towards his office. Dumbledore. Another ghost. Another friend she had mourned. In other circumstances, Hermione would have felt a warm comfort at the knowledge of his proximity. But her heart was numb with an ice cold barrier. She doubted she would ever feel warmth again. And she had a job to do.

* * *

One hour ago…

The battle was over. Smoked filled the air, collecting in a choking mass above the castle. Hermione knew what it meant. She refused to look. Instead she busied herself with helping the wounded, finding survivors and comforting those who had lost their loved ones. Everywhere she turned she could smell death. Nobody spoke. The silence was consuming. She looked into the eyes of survivors and was met by emptiness. They were past the point of despair, past the point of grief. Their one hope had died with the boy who lived.

"Hermione Granger." It was Kingsley Shacklebolt. Hermione let the deep voice wash over her. She nodded, too weak to seek the eyes of her companion. "Come with me." They walked together in silence. There was nothing more to say. Hermione followed blindly, and was only slightly surprised to find herself in the headmaster's office.

Shacklebolt positioned himself in the centre of the room and looked up at the life size painting of Albus Dumbledore. "Defeat." One word. How could one word hold such devastating power? Hermione's heart screamed at the sound of it, fresh tears appearing at the corner of her eyes. She wanted to scream, she wanted to shout and fight and die.

"It's time." The painting of Dumbledore replied. He looked tired, old and completely beaten as he looked upon Hermione. "There is something I must ask you to do, and you must do it now." Hermione noted the severity in his voice and nodded. "For some time now professor Snape and I have been seeking alternative means to strip lord Voldermort of his power. Alas, our options were few and the alternative to this battle seemed too much of a risk to even contemplate. But, it would seem, we have nothing left to lose."

"Professor Snape, as you know, was very gifted when it came to the dark arts. He devised a way to send you back in time," explained Shacklebolt. "to 1944." Hermione stared between the man and the painting as understanding dawned.

"You want me to kill him." Hermione noted the eagerness in her voice. Yes, she thought. That would solve everything. Harry would be alive; he could be with his parents. They would all be alive, Professor Lupin, Tonks, Fred and Ron. Ron. Her Ron.

"Ah, Miss Granger you mistake me. Indeed, it is my intent that you go to 1944 in order to prevent Voldermort from committing the terrible atrocities he is destined to commit, however, the Tom Riddle of 1944 is innocent of these crimes. It would be unethical to take his life." Dumbledore's eyes softened for a moment as he considered his next words. "What I am asking you to do Hermione is incredibly dangerous, and it is something I would not ask of anyone else. I want you to befriend Tom Riddle. He had little kindness shown to him during his life. He was a forgotten child, his peers too frightened of him to be true friends, teachers too manipulated by his charms to see the lonely child within. It is my belief that if Tom had ever known real feelings of friendship, and even the possibility of love, he would not have become the lord Voldermort of this time" Hermione didn't know what to say. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

"Professor Snape suggested that it should be you to go. He respected you, and felt that Tom would only truly befriend someone with a similar intellect to his own." Hermione scoffed at this. She couldn't quite believe that Professor Snape felt anything towards her other than annoyance. "If you do this Hermione, you can never return. There will be no way back to this time. You will never see your family again." Dumbledore's words echoed through her entire being. Life as she knew it would no longer exist. Hermione wondered briefly if this timeline would even exist. So little was understood about the repercussions of time travel. She thought of her parents, safe in Australia with no knowledge of their brilliant witch of a daughter. Safe. Hermione knew that with the war lost, she would never be able to see them again. As the best friend of the boy who lived, she had a strong feeling that her own life would be over soon. In that moment, there seemed little to consider.

"I will do it." Her companions didn't respond. It was inevitable.

"This is the device that will take you into the past. It works in much the same way as a port-key." Shacklebolt suspended a tattered potions book in mid-air, taking great care not to touch it. Hermione's stomach lurched with recognition. Shacklebolt smiled. "Snapes personal joke I think. Or perhaps he felt it may come in handy. I suppose we will never know." Hermione shuddered as she remembered the spells contained within the pages of the advanced potions making book.

"You have little time Miss Granger. You must leave us soon. Once you arrive in the past, seek me out in the transfiguration office. Do not tell my past self any more than is absolutely necessary. I trust I will know what to do, I usually do." Dumbledore smiled briefly at his private joke. Hermione could almost see the old sparkle in his eye, but in less than a second it was gone. Dumbledore shook his head before looking back into her eyes. "Good luck." On his cue Hermione took hold of the advanced potions book and began her journey into the past.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

1944

She stopped at the door to the transfigurations classroom. His office was just meters away. And then she heard them.

"Thank you again for the wine Albus, but I really must insist on leaving you now. Good gods man, It's almost four in the morning! What will my students think of me." Hermione recognised the voice of her old potions master with a start. Her normally fast reflexes refused to act as the door swung open to reveal the pyjama clad professors Slughorne and Dumbledore. Professor Slughorne stopped, riveted to the spot, confusion spreading across his ruddy face. "Why my dear, what are you doing out of bed at this hour? And at professor Dumbledore's door of all places?" a hideously amusing idea occurred to Slughorne at that moment, and his face cracked into an over bright smile. "Students, visiting you in the middle of the night Albus? You old dog you!" Hermione blanched at this, too horrified at the accusation to think of a logical explanation for being there.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "It pains me to put a dampener on your amusement professor, but I must confess that I am not acquainted with this young lady. In fact, I am almost certain that she is not a student of Hogwarts at all." Professor Dumbledore stared into Hermione's eyes, seeking the answer to an unspoken question. "At least, not a current student." He smiled then, with all the warmth and wisdom of the Dumbledore Hermione had grieved for. He was young, but not as young as she had expected. Even 50 years into the past Dumbledore could be considered an old man.

"I need to speak to you Professor. It's extremely urgent." Hermione felt shy asking for help.

"Then I shall leave you with this rather lovely non- student who you do not know. Good night professor, goodnight my dear." Slughorne picked up Hermione's hand and bowed his head slightly over it, with a still too smug look on his face, before ambling down the corridor back to the dungeons.

"You wished to speak to me miss?..."

"Granger, Hermione Granger."

"Well miss Granger, it is a pleasure to meet you. Do come in." Hermione entered the red and gold office. It was bright and vibrant, and nothing like the office she had left just hours before. Candles floated haphazardly around the room, like leftover guests at the end of a party. Hermione chose a seat amongst the soft maroon cushions of his sofa. She was silent as she watched the professor clear away the two empty glasses and an assortment of nibbles scattered across his desk. Once the office had been returned to order, he took the leather high back chair and positioned himself across from Hermione. "What can I do for you?"

For a long moment, Hermione didn't know what to say. She didn't know what the professor could do for her. She supposed she should start from the beginning. She should tell him about Lord Voldermort, about the war, about Harry. She couldn't give away too much information about the future, but how much was too much? How could she ask for help in preventing Tom Riddle from becoming the dark lord without explaining everything? Dumbledore waited patiently. If he was tired from the night's activities, he didn't show it. His eyes filled with concern as he studied the girl before him. "Are you unwell child?" the kindness in his voice brought tears to Hermione's eyes. Unwell? Maybe. Hermione doubted she would ever be truly well again.

"Professor.. I …" the words wouldn't come easily. _No_, she thought, _I must_. Hermione crossed her arms across her chest, rubbing up and down to fight off the non-existent cold. She looked at the professor again, deep into his eyes. And she broke. The events of evening, the past few months, her years of friendship with the boy who lived, flooded unhindered from her mouth in a guttural mess of choking tears. A searing pain swelled within her, consuming her, making it hard to breathe as she remembered the screams, the bursts of red and green and the smell of death. Choking. Burning. She hadn't looked at the dark mark, hanging above the castle, marking his victory as an animal marks its territory. But she knew it was there. She could feel it. And as she surfaced from the depths of the haunting memory to look into Dumbledore's eyes, she knew he could feel it to.

"My dear, you must…" it was Dumbledore's turn to be lost for words. His alarm was clear, and suddenly he didn't seem as wise as the Dumbledore of Hermione's time. He was just a man. A man, who had been given a haunting glimpse of his future. A glimpse he had not asked for. "My dear, what you propose, indeed what I have proposed seems incredibly dangerous. In coming here you have altered your timeline. Little is known about the repercussions of time travel. It may already be too late. Your being here could have disastrous consequences." He paused in thought for a long time, looking down at his desk as if struggling to come to a rational solution. "Sleep." Hermione looked at the professor, puzzled. "You should sleep. In the morning I will come to you and we will figure out what to do for the best. It has been a long night for both of us, and you look like death, if you don't mind me saying so." He smiled warmly; there was a trace of pity in his expression now. Indicating a blanket on the back of the sofa, he stepped towards the door. "I need to make some arrangements as to where you will be staying over the summer, I have an idea, but I must run it past a college of mine. Please, make yourself comfortable." He continued to move towards the door, reaching for the handle when his words sank in.

"Summer?"

"Yes Miss Granger. You must be aware that Hogwarts does not allow students to stay in the castle during the summer holidays? I must say I am surprised that my future self decided to send you back to this date and time, 3 days from the end of term. If indeed it was my intent to have you befriend young Riddle, he was leaving little time to do it in. although, I wonder…" and with that he left the room.

* * *

Hermione slept surprisingly well on the leather sofa. The blanket that the professor had provided for her was soft and smelt of cinnamon. Light was shining in through the stain glass window and she could feel the heat from the morning summer haze filling the small office. Raised voices alerted her to a presence on the other side of the door.

"This is the last straw. Prefect or not Malfoy, Professor Dumbledore will not stand for this sort of behaviour." An achingly familiar voice met Hermione's ears, the pleasant lilt of her Scottish accent reminding her of the Hogwarts she knew.

"Minerva is there really any need for this. Malfoy is an idiot, but he didn't mean any harm. I'm sure he feel remorse for the girl, don't you Abraxas?" said a deep voice. They were close to the door now; Hermione sat up and wrapped the blanket tightly around her, not knowing what to do.

"Yes. I am truly _sorry."_ The voice that apparently belonged to Abraxas Malfoy came out as a board, slightly petulant drawl. _Some things never change_, thought Hermione.

"I'm pleased to hear that, Malfoy. But never the less, your actions were inexcusable." With that she knocked on the door. Hermione tensed, praying that Dumbledore had locked the door. She wondered if McGonagall would try to enter the room without invitation.

"It would seem that the professor is not in." concluded the deep voice. It was smooth and soft. It reminded Hermione of chocolate and silk.

"Thank you for stating the obvious Riddle," _Riddle_. _Tom Riddle_. Hermione squeaked, placing a fist in her mouth, hoping that the three students hadn't heard her exclamation. Tom Riddle was just meters away from her on the other side of the door. Tom Riddle. Voldermort. She could end it now. She could take her wand, open the door and…. No. That wasn't the plan.

"I shall speak with the professor when I next see him. For now, get back to your dorms. I don't want to see either of you near the Gryffindor common room again, or I will be taking you straight to the head master." Hermione heard a muffled response as the trio departed. This was too much. Hermione knew she was clever and even brave when she needed to be. But this was different. Everything that had happened the night before had robbed Hermione of herself. She had nothing left. She didn't know if she could be strong enough to face the dark lord, even as tom Riddle. She wanted him dead, more than she wanted anything else in the world. How could she show kindness to a murderer? _He isn't Voldermort yet,_ a voice crept into Hermione's head. Her conscience, yet it wasn't her voice. She knew professor Dumbledore was right. But it didn't take away the sting of it.

Hermione shrugged off the blanket and started towards the door. She was restless, and she saw no point in waiting around in the empty office. She needed to speak with Dumbledore, maybe if she asked another student she would be able to find him. Reaching for the door, Hermione paused. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a small book tucked between the cushions of the sofa she had just vacated. Advanced potions making. _Perfect_, she thought, _no escaping you then_. She picked up the book and stuffed it inside her robes, noting the torn edges and burned marks. _They will need changing_. As she walked out of the office and down the corridor, Hermione was aware of the odd looks she was attracting from other students, but she found she didn't care. She didn't care about anything anymore. She was empty.

* * *

Tom Riddle watched as Hermione left the Dumbledore's office. He had heard a noise from within and, knowing that Dumbledore was presently having an in-depth conversation with Professor Slughorne in the dungeons, was intrigued. He had been about to enter the office by force when the door clicked. Tom had had just enough time to hide behind a rather grotesque statue of a one eyed witch, before the dishevelled brunette strode past him with a vacant expression upon her face. _Curious_, he thought, before following her through the castle.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hermione walked aimlessly through the castle. In truth, she had no idea where to find Dumbledore. It was early morning; the few students awake were making their way to the great hall. With just three days until the end of term, Hermione knew that many lessons would have finished, allowing students time to pack up their possessions. The atmosphere was light and carefree, as the end of a school year should be. Thinking back, Hermione couldn't remember a school year passing without having to fight for it. She envied these students. She envied their safe, simple lives.

"Excuse me, but I don't believe we have met." Hermione returned from her thoughts with a start. She looked up into dark metallic eyes. His pale face was just inches from her own. Hermione gasped and jumped back, an electric current pulsing through her veins. Raw hatred blinded her senses. She wanted him dead. She wanted to be the one to do it. _Stop it Hermione_, said the voice in her head. _Breathe_. And she did. With great effort she unclenched her fists, noticing the stinging pain where her fingernails broke the skin of her palms.

"I apologise, I didn't mean to..." Hermione paused. Riddles eyes flashed red, her reaction had angered him and Hermione could feel the tension building around them.

"Who are you?" The fake politeness stripped from his voice. The smooth chocolate silk of moments before was replaced by an ice cold command.

"Miss Granger is a family friend of mine, Mr Riddle." Professor Dumbledore appeared beside Hermione, offering the support she so greatly needed. "She will be attending Hogwarts next year. I felt she would benefit from a tour of the castle to ease the process of starting a new school." Dumbledore's eyes narrowed at Tom. "I trust you will do everything in your power to make her feel welcome."

"Of course Professor." The silky charm was back, but his eyes were empty as he turned back to Hermione. "I look forward to renewing your acquaintance next term Miss Granger."

"I am glad to hear it. For I am almost certain that you will be seeing each other far sooner than you anticipate." With that, Dumbledore winked at a slightly confused Tom and steered Hermione towards the front entrance.

They walked in silence for a long time before Hermione felt safe to speak. "What makes you think I will see him again so soon Professor?" Dumbledore chuckled softly to himself. Was he going to answer the question? "Professor? You said I was a family friend?" They continued walking through the grounds until they reached the gates. Dumbledore tapped his want against the heavy lock, simultaneously waving a hand to open the gate. "Professor Dumbledore, where are we..."

"All will be explained in good time Miss Granger. For now, take my arm." Hermione placed her small hand on Dumbledore's arm and was apparated away into the unknown.

* * *

Tom Riddle watched as Dumbledore walked away with the mysterious girl. _Granger_, he didn't know the name. Was she muggle born? Possibly. Although, Dumbledore had named her as a family friend. He remembered the look he had observed in her eyes. No, not just her eyes. The girl had stood before him, just a slip of a thing, visibly shaking with loathing. Did he know her? Tom searched his memory, trying to recall a meeting with the strange creature who had departed with professor Dumbledore just moments before. _No_, he thought. _I do not know her; she has no reason to hate me_. Maybe he had startled her. Yes. That must be it. He had approached the girl as she stood in the middle of the entrance hall. She had seemed lost, alone and very, very far away. It had taken him several attempts to distract her from her thoughts. When she eventually came around he had been standing exceedingly close. Close enough to smell the burning ash on her robes, coupled with a faint trace of blood. _Curious_.

"Tom my boy! Just the person I was looking for. I have a very particular job for you."

"Professor Slughorn, I would be honoured to be of assistance to you." Tom turned his full attention to the professor, bowing his head as a mark of respect. He relied upon the excruciating vanity of lesser beings to manipulate them. Professor Slughorn was no exception.

"My dear boy, I knew you would not fail me. But I think what I must ask you would be best said in private. Delicate matter, you know. Yes, very delicate indeed."

"Of course, professor." They walked through the hall and into the dungeons, where the professor indicated to the door of a grand and spacious office. Of course, Tom had been in the professor's office many times, yet he always marvelled at the vulgarity of it. Pictures of Slughorns 'collection' lined the walls, a relative whos-who of the wizarding world.

"Take a seat my boy, take a seat. Can I offer you a drink? Pumpkin juice?"

"Certainly professor." As Slughorn busied himself with the drinks, Tom allowed his thoughts to drift back to the strange girl. She had been rather small, with light brown hair that complemented her amber eyes. Pretty, he supposed. But the girl had no idea how to present herself.

"Now Tom, what I am about to explain to you is rather a sensitive matter." Slughorn sat behind a large mahogany desk and smiled reassuringly, almost to himself. "You see, a rather tragic incident has occurred. I'm not really sure how to explain the thing."

"You can trust me professor." Tom said, putting all the charm and fake honesty he could into the words.

"Of course my dear boy, yes, but you see…" Slughorn trailed off, deep in thought. Whatever he wanted to reveal must have been extremely important, and suddenly Tom had a burning desire to know. _Knowledge is power_, he thought, _any knowledge that has Slughorn in knots must be worth knowing indeed. _"A terrible incident has occurred. Grindelwald, as you must know, is in Europe, terrorising muggles and muggle born witches and wizards alike. A wizarding family, a family very close to professor Dumbledore defied him, and I am afraid to say they lost their lives." Tom listened intently to the professor. "It is a miracle she survived the attack really," _She_, was slughorn talking about the girl? "As a family friend, the professor has taken it upon himself to look out for the child; she will be attending Hogwarts next year." It added up. But what did this have to do with Tom? Tom waited patiently for Slughorn to continue. _Get to the point old man. _"Unfortunately, due to Grinelwalds hatred of Professor Dumbledore, he cannot be publicly seen as this girl's guardian. Indeed, she is at such risk from the dark wizard due to her parents, that Dumbledore felt the need to ask for my assistance." Slughorn's chest puffed as he announced this statement. Tom was disgusted by the obvious pride Slughorn felt at being of use to the all mighty Dumbledore.

"What did you suggest to him sir?"

"Ah, my dear boy, this is where you come in. You see, we needed a place for Miss Hermione Granger, I believe that is her name, to stay for the summer. She couldn't stay with Dumbledore due to association, and I couldn't possibly take in a young woman unknown to my family, people will talk you see," _get on with it _"We wanted as few people to know about her situation as possible, and then I had a marvellous idea." Slughorn grinned then, a magnificent show of pearl white teeth benefit straw blonde bristles. "She could stay with you." Tom's stomach twisted in surprise, a feeling he was not accustomed to.

"With me sir? But… Professor I live…"

"In a muggle orphanage. Yes, my boy, I know. Perfect hiding place, don't you agree? Most of the students don't even know _you _return there for the summer." Tom allowed those words to wash over him. _No, she can't stay there, she can't know, no one can know. _Tom had been so careful to hide his past from the students of Hogwarts. Even Abraxus, who knew much about Tom's true lineage, knew nothing of his life before Hogwarts. It just wasn't spoken of.

"You will have no trouble from the girl. In fact, I believe she may even be good company for you. I should imagine it can be quite lonely living with muggle children." Slughorn moved towards the door with a smile on his face, its seemed the matter was settled. "She will be at the orphanage when you arrive home on the train. I'm sure you will become great friends." Slughorn paused as a thought occurred to him "Although, I wouldn't get my hopes up too much. She doesn't seem all that memorable. When she arrived during the night, even professor Dumbledore couldn't place her. Such a mouse of a thing." Slughorn shook his head and opened the door. "Well, off you go my boy. Enjoy the last few days of term." And with that, Tom departed. _Hermione Granger, _he thought,_ yes, just a mouse of a thing. An insignificant mouse._


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione sat next to the bare window of her new bedroom and looked out into the grey courtyard of the orphanage. Wools orphanage, it seemed appropriate. Wasn't that what she was now? An orphan? Since her parents hadn't been born yet, she could only assume so. This was her home for the summer. The little room consisted of a single bed, a plain wooden wardrobe and functional desk and chair. An empty shelf protruded from a white washed wall. The bare floorboards were rough beneath her feet. She had removed her trainers to be cleaned upon entering the orphanage, along with the rest of her clothing. They hadn't been returned, and Hermione wondered if the matron had destroyed them, deeming them beyond repair and unfit attire for a young lady. The matron had presented her with a rough woollen dress, complete with tights and black leather shoes. The dress was fitted, flattering Hermione's figure in a way her old jeans never could. The tights and leather shoes lay forgotten in a crumpled heap beside the bed. A day of trying to wear them in had left blisters large enough to cover her entire heel. A second day of attempting the same resulted in the blisters splitting, the ensuing puss and blood knitting the tights to her skin.

"Miss Granger. Won't you come down for something to eat?" It was Mrs Cole, the matron. The middle age woman wore a simple black dress, identical to Hermione's. She looked smart, efficient, like a non-magical copy of professor McGonagall. In the three days since professor Dumbledore had left Hermione at the orphanage, she had discovered little about the matron. Hermione had spent most of her time outside, hidden away in the walled garden. She was very rarely inside the building, but the insistent summer rain that had started that morning refused to die down, forcing her to stay inside, in the matron's domain.

"I… I'm not hungry." Hermione replied. She hadn't eaten much since the attack on Hogwarts. She hadn't slept much either, catching a few hours here and there. Hermione felt strained, she didn't want to talk, and she wanted everyone to leave her alone.

"You should eat something my dear. You will make yourself ill." The matron's voice was sickly sweet and full of concern. _False concern_, thought Hermione. "Well, no matter. You can have something later on when you are hungry. Tom will be home this evening. Maybe you would prefer to share a meal with him?" Hermione shivered. She had almost forgotten about _him_. "You will be attending school together next year. It will be good if the two of you could become friends. Lord knows he could use a few. It might be good for him. Yes, I'm certain it's just what he needs," the matron added, speaking entirely to herself as she made her way out of Hermione's room and down the stairs to the kitchen.

Hermione recommenced her study of the courtyard. She had a good view; through the thin glass she observed the busy muggles, going about their business in the rain. Being the only girl in the orphanage, Hermione had been allocated the small bedroom at the very top of the building. It suited her well, as it meant the she was rarely disturbed by noises from the rest of the orphans. The floor below her was occupied by the older boys Billy and Dennis. Tom Riddles room was also on this floor, empty, waiting for him to return. The older boys had joked that the room was cursed; even Martha wouldn't go in to clean away the dust. _I wonder if it is_, Hermione thought idly. It wouldn't surprise her. Tom Riddle struck her as a private person. Hermione had a sudden desire to see if the room truly was cursed. Ignoring the tough leather shoes and crumpled tights, Hermione left her room to find out. Within a minute she was at the foot of the stairs. She had no idea which room belonged to him.

"What are you doing down here." It was Billy Stubbs, one of the older muggle boys who still lived at the orphanage. He was younger than Hermione, no more than 15, but he was tall and well-built for his age. Most of the orphans were expected to help out around the home, and Billy tended to the allotment. Hermione hadn't been asked to pitch in so far and she wondered if that was Professor Dumbledore's doing. "Well?" Hermione was uncomfortably aware that she hadn't answered him. She couldn't think of a lie fast enough.

"I'm looking for Tom's room." Billy was stunned.

"T…TT Tom's room? What do you want with him?" Billy's fear of Tom was clear. The youth suddenly looked half his age at the mention of his name. "He won't like it you know, you poking about his things. Just because you're a girl, Amy was a girl and he didn't like her poking around his things!"

"I'm not poking about his things!" Hermione put in defensively. "I… I'm just curious." Hermione bent forward in a conspirative way. "I just want to know if it's true, you know, that it's cursed…" She smiled encouragingly at the boy.

"It is you know! It's true. Dennis tried it, just after Christmas. The door knob burnt his hand! And then Martha said he was lying, said he got the burnt trying to steel buns from the stove. Then one day she went into clean and, and she hasn't been in since! She hasn't said why." Billy was half smiling now, happy to have found someone to confide in.

"Have you been in Billy?"

"Course I have, well, before the curse…" Billy trailed off, caught in his memory.

"Before?"

"Well before the curse, course! It wasn't cursed before New Year's. We used to go in there all the time. He keeps all kinds of strange things in there, all bottled up in jars, and books in strange languages." Hermione wondered about the significance of New Year's. What had changed?

"Which room is his Billy? Can you show me?" Hermione asked. Billy twisted his mouth in an odd grimace. He contemplated Hermione for a moment before gesturing towards the door at the very end of the corridor. From the outside, the room appeared the same as any other. Hermione couldn't feel anything out of the ordinary. She walked towards the door, aware that Billy was keeping his distance.

"I… I would come with you, I just, you know… stuff to do!" And with that he ran down the stairs. Hermione couldn't blame him. _Why am I doing this? I should be running with Billy! _Hermione took out her wand and cast a cooling charm on her hands, just in case. She reached for the door knob and twisted, entering the dusty room. Billy was right; Martha certainly hadn't been in here. The unoccupied room was as understated as her own. Simple furniture, bare windows and a distinct air of emptiness. The only possessions in the room were a few books on a single book shelf, accompanied by two large stones at either end. _So this is where the young Voldermort spent his summers_. Hermione shivered. She walked across the room, wondering what sort of curse he might have put on the room. Had he come to the orphanage over the Christmas holidays specifically to put the curse on the room? If so, why? Despite the summer heat radiating through the window, Hermione felt cold. And she felt tired. If there was a curse here, she couldn't detect it. Walking sluggishly, she made her way back to her own room. Lying on the bed, she finally allowed sleep to sink in.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hermione woke with a start. It was night, a golden light from the street below shone into the cramped space, casting shadows across the bed. She wasn't alone. A dark shape moved from the corner of the room, blocking the light from the small window. Hermione could hear shallow breathing as the figure moved towards her. She gripped the blanket from beneath her, groping for her wand.

"Looking for this, Miss Granger?" Tom Riddle stood next to the bed, the dark shadows masking his face. He was twisting her wand between his long, pale fingers. With a soft hiss, he whispered. "You really shouldn't be so careless. Leaving it lying around in a vacant room for anyone to find. Oh, but then, you didn't leave it in a vacant room, did you? You left it in mine." Hermione could sense his amusement as he continued. "I guess that makes it mine now."

"Give it back Riddle." Hermione sprang to grab her wand, barely concealing the panic in her voice.

"Haha, sssssshhh now. You don't want to wake the matron." His laugh was high and slightly forced, reminding Hermione of a master villain in a west end play "A boy in your bedroom, in the middle of the night! Do you know how the muggles punish that sort of behaviour?" Hermione didn't know, but she could guess. She took the hint and kept her voice low.

Hermione stared at him, determined. "Give me back my wand." Her voice was steady and surprisingly calm.

"I don't think I will." Tom took another step towards the bed "What were you doing in my room?" He leaned forward so that he was close enough to touch her. Once again, he was too close for comfort and Hermione felt an odd sensation in her stomach. What was it? Fear, but not the chilling dread she had come accustomed to in the months on the run with Harry and Ron. No, not quite fear. It was a lighter feeling, closer to curiosity. She was scared of him, but she didn't feel that he was any real threat. The Voldermort of her time would have used an unforgivable curse by now. The boy before her wasn't half the monster she had expected. He was dark, cold and unusual… and Hermione was _curious_. She wondered how far she could push him.

"Well, the door _was_ open," She stated, "It was practically an invitation." She added daringly.

Suddenly Tom sprang for her, flattening her small frame. He loomed over her, hands placed either side of the bed, trapping her easily. "Liar." He spat "Why did you break into my room? What were you looking for?" His voice was quieter still, barely a whisper, tickling Hermione's cheek as he spoke just inches from her face. Hermione twisted against him, trying to find a way to dislodge herself. But Tom was larger than she had judged, and she quickly gave up.

"I'm not a liar. Your door was open. Obviously your stupid curse only works on muggles." For a split second, a blank expression crept across Toms face and Hermione fought the urge to laugh into it. And she might have, if it wasn't for the wand pointed directly towards her throat. Still, she wasn't too alarmed. Before the war had been lost, Hermione would have fought harder to release herself from his grasp, she would have been defiant, kicking and screaming and giving all she had. But the last few days had drained her. The hatred she felt was still there, smouldering inside her, but the blaze had died down slightly as reality set in. _Kill Voldermort, and then what?_ Hermione didn't have an answer. Stooping to his level, _killing,_ was something Hermione just didn't do. She would stick to the plan and befriend Tom Riddle. Not that she appeared to be doing a great job.

"That doesn't explain what you were doing in there." He bore his weight down on her, pinning her into the mattress.

"I was… I was curious." Hermione felt Tom shift above her uncomfortably. She had the slightest impression that he wanted to get away. Her response had confused him, and suddenly her close proximity felt far too intimate, in a way that hadn't occurred to him earlier.

"Curious?"

"Yes… I… If you hadn't noticed, this is a muggle orphanage. Not exactly the place I wanted to spend my summer." Encouraged by his silence, she continued "I heard a rumour that your room was cursed, and I wondered if it was true. You really didn't have to be so drastic about it you know. A lock probably would have sufficed." Hermione tried to keep her voice soft and kindly.

Tom sat back on his heels and considered the girl beneath him. It was unnerving, and Hermione shivered, waiting for his response. He seemed to be struggling with something. Did he believe her? did he think she had some ulterior motive?

"That's it. Curious." He looked as though he wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, Hermione couldn't tell. Tom stood up and crossed the room. Reaching for the door he looked back "Stay out of my room." After tossing Hermione's wand in the general direction of the bed, he left.

Hermione collapsed back onto the bed, her heart pounding. _Well that was interesting_.

* * *

Tom paced back and forth across the bare floorboards of his room. He was confused_. I went to warn her. She was supposed to be scared. _But Tom had the oddest impression that the girl had been anything but scared. She had found his presence amusing. The hatred he had observed on their first meeting seemed to have evaporated. Either that or it was well hidden, but to what end? Did she have a motive? Maybe she truly craved for a friend. Or maybe she knew more about him then she let on and was acting friendly for the sake of self-preservation. That was sensible, he granted. But that wasn't really what was bothering him.

_Her legs were bare_, an image of her long, shapely limbs flashed through his mind. _Her dressed hitched up when I pressed her into the mattress_. He had never been that intimate with a girl, and he found the memory of her warm body beneath his distracting. Tom shook his head, dismissing the growing ache in the pit of his stomach. The feeling wasn't new to him, but it was most certainly unwelcome. He had tried to focus on her face. It was plain, and unlikely to stir any unwanted feelings in him. But then he had noticed her eyes again, the soft amber, only now they had a gentle light radiating from the core. She seemed alive, for the first time since they had met. And then she had said it. _Curious_. Well, quite frankly, the feeling was mutual.

Putting the confusing thoughts to the back of his mind, Tom went to his trunk. The charms protecting his possessions were obviously not as effective as he hoped. One good thing to come of her snooping. Previously, he had only thought to guard against the stupid muggle orphans and that dreadful cleaning girl Martha. He had come to the orphanage the day of his 17th birthday with the express intention of casting the charm, thus creating a safe haven for his personal treasures. However, with Hermione staying for the summer, something stronger than a muggle repelling charm would be required. He needed a safe space for his work, and it wouldn't do to have the witch walking in on him, uninvited. Tom picked out a dusty old book from the bottom of his trunk. The book was as thick as his hand span- a light read. Settling down into his investigations, Tom read through the night. By the morning he was exhausted, but he had an answer.

**A/N: This is my first fan fic, so apologies for the short chapters. I think I'm just about finding my feet with the whole thing. I will try to add longer chapters in the future. Thanks for the follows and favs **** They keep me motivated and make me smile! I hope you don't mind the change of scene from Hogwarts. I wanted to attempt something in the muggle world, some place more private and unexplored. Let me know what you think! My writing style is in need of development so any comments will be greatly appreciated. **


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A summer haze hung around the plants and small creatures of the walled garden. The blistering heat of the midday sun kissed Hermione's skin as she lay content on the grass covered path, the advanced potions making book forgotten in her hand. She smiled, relishing the feel of the heat spreading along her bare limbs. Her new summer dress felt light and soft compared to the black woollen monstrosity. It wasn't jeans, but it was a start. Idly, Hermione picked at the grass surrounding her, searching for daisies to make a chain. Something so simple, yet so pleasant. It reminded her of home. It reminded her of life before magic. The muggle orphanage was a lot like the primary school Hermione had attended. _A lifetime ago_, she thought, with an odd pang of regret. Hermione loved magic; she would be lost without it she knew. But it was undeniable that her gift had brought danger into her life, into her parent's lives.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked, not bothering to mask the command with the usual charm, obviously she wasn't worth the effort.

Hermione didn't respond at first. It was a simple question really, blunt and to the point. Hermione hadn't spoken to Tom in the week since he returned from Hogwarts. He had gone to great lengths to avoid her; leaving rooms as she entered, walking the other way when they met in corridors. Hermione had no particular urge to force him in to conversation. She was quite fond of her own company.

"Nothing." She replied, as simply as he had asked. Hermione jerked in surprise as Tom sat down beside her, placing a large wooden box between them like a barrier.

"Have you nothing better to do?" He probed.

"Why do you care?" Hermione replied in a board voice. She had little energy lately; she didn't feel up to a battle of wits with the dark lord himself.

Tom didn't answer, and Hermione had the oddest impression that he didn't have one. Leaning forwards, he plucked the forgotten potions book out of her hand. "What a tatty old thing, I see you like defacing books."

Hermione sat up to face him as he leafed idly through the book. "Why are you speaking to me all of a sudden? You've been avoiding me all week."

Tom's hands stilled over a page towards the back of the book as he met Hermione's gaze. "I though you would be pleased about that. You haven't exactly given me the impression that you want my company."

_Maybe I don't_, Hermione thought, but she knew that wasn't true. She hated the idea of Tom Riddle, but so far the reality of him wasn't living up to her expectations. He was cautious, quiet and a whole lot less terrifying than his future self. "You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine." They locked eyes.

Hermione contemplated him for a moment. "No. As it happens, I have nothing better to do. I don't know anyone here, nor do I have any wish to get the know them. I have no family, and worst of all the people I have been forced to live with are so different to me, we might as well be from different worlds!" Hermione was shocked by her own honesty.

"I understand." Hermione stared at him, bewildered. "It's hard living with muggles, they are from a different world!" Tom's voice was soft, barely a hiss, but his statement was honest and full of an emotion that Hermione couldn't place. Pain? When she had mentioned being from another world, what she had really meant was time.

"These notes are rather interesting. Where did you get this book?"

"You haven't answered my question yet," Hermione quipped, attempting to change the subject. "Why are you speaking to me?"

For a moment the distraction worked, and Tom looked thoughtful once again. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but I just don't know." And then he smiled. It was an easy, open smile. The first honest sign of normality Hermione had observed since their meeting. "I'm not used to not knowing the answer to a question." Hermione smiled back at him, she couldn't help it, knowing that she too rarely suffered from that particular affliction.

"Levicorpus? Now what does this spell do?" At his words, Hermione returned to reality with a jolt. Remembering the true owner of the book and the dark spells it contained, she flung herself at tom, stretching over him for the book. Tom anticipated the move and rolled to the side, jumping to his feet in a fluid motion. "A good hex then I take it? Maybe I should try it out on one of the muggles, they do have some uses you see." And with that he ran for the gate, straight towards the allotment.

_Billy!_ Hermione chased him through garden, skidding as she rounded a corner. She pulled out her wand from the belt of her dress and aimed it at Toms back.

Hermione barely had time to think as Tom neared the youth working in the small vegetable garden. _Stupefy_, she thought, and a jet of crimson light shot from the end of her wand, narrowly missing Toms back. Billy turned at the commotion. The look of surprise on his face turned first to confusion, and then to abject horror as he watched the pair face each other, ready to duel.

"Non-verbals miss Granger? I must say I am impressed." Hermione ducked as he countered with a stunning spell of his own, followed quickly by a river of liquid fire, encasing her in a burning cage. Hermione acted on instinct, cocooning herself in water and simply walking through her deadly prison. As Tom aimed his wand at Billy, Hermione lunged, simultaneously performing a protection charm on the both of them. Tom was visibly torn between shock and admiration. "Why protect him, he's a filthy muggle."

Hermione pushed a petrified Billy behind her back. His face was white with fear as beads of sweat collected against his skin. "Leave him alone Tom. He's just a boy."

A loud crack sounded through the air, accompanied by a dense fog. Within seconds she was surrounded, her lungs filling with the thick substance. She sensed a presence to her left shortly before being forced to the ground with her arms pinned behind her back.

"You are in breach of the international statute of wizarding secrecy. You do not have to say anything, but..." Another crack alerted them to a new arrival.

"Now, now Mr Wolderly, is there really any need for these dramatics." The fog began to clear, revealing a shrunken, elderly wizard. "My dear man, you have nearly succeeded in chocking my star student to death!" The fog continued to clear, allowing Hermione a rather satisfying view of Tom Riddle gasping for air.

"Excuse me, Professor Dippet sir, but these two miscreants have broken the law. It is my job to secure them and take them to the ministry for questioning. I really don't think…"

"Yes, quite. Although I'm sure that on closer inspection you will agree that this was no more than a little heated duelling practice. Don't you agree Albus?"

Hermione spun her head around to the auburn-haired wizard. She hadn't heard him arrive.

"I quite agree professor. It is quite unfortunate that this young muggle happened to be in view of the incident, but I very much doubt it was intentional." He winked at Hermione, and she felt a wave of reassurance wash through her.

"But, I… I really don't think..."

"Well then, that settles it. Run along now Wolderly, we shall take it from here." Dippet ignored the wizard's gasps of outrage. He leant to help Tom to his feet.

Hermione felt Wolderly release her arm, realising defeat. He helped her to stand before bowing to the professors in turn, and apparating away.

Professor Dippet sighed. With the ministry agent gone, he suddenly looked his age. He was an old man, about the age of the headmaster of Hermione's time, though he lacked the spark that professor Dumbledore managed to retain.

"Well, I suppose we should clean up this mess. Albus, if you will." Professor Dumbledore knelt beside Billy. At some point the boy had fainted, which Hermione felt was probably for the best.

"Obliterate." The whispered command wiped his memory clean.

"Now, as for the two of you, I don't want your explanations. What you have done here today is very serious indeed. If you had not been students at Hogwarts, the ministry would be well within their rights to detain you as punishment." The fog had completely cleared now, allowing Hermione a clear view of the headmaster. "Miss Granger, it is my understanding that you are new to this country. Rest assured that this sort of behaviour will not be tolerated. As punishment for using magic in front of a muggle, knowingly or not, a trace will be placed upon you, and you will be banned from performing magic for the remainder of the summer holidays."

Hermione gasped. She searched for an argument, _I was protecting him!_ But she knew that nothing she could say would persuade the headmaster.

"The same punishment applies to you Tom. I would never have expected this from you. You must be more cautious when practicing magic. I understand that things are difficult, living with muggles, but it really won't do. The trace will be removed once you have returned to Hogwarts."

Toms head was bent low, an apologetic look plastered to his face. Hermione wondered at his skill. Inside, she knew he would be fuming. How could he feel something so strongly, and convince the world that he felt something entirely different?

"Have a pleasant summer." The headmaster uttered grimly to signal their parting "Albus." Together they apparated away, leaving the two students staring into the space between them.

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews, the follows and the favs! The next few chapters will be more eventful, having the trace re-activated is pretty much key to some of the upcoming events. Hope you enjoyed **


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